Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) Page 8

  “We’re not doing anything, Gray! Nothing’s happening!”

  The darkness was nearly upon them. He made out terrifying, inhuman faces, dark wings, and thousands of fast moving long-legged limbs, as the evil crawled, galloped, and dashed across the plains like abominations.

  The power flowed through him like a torrent, taking his breath. He couldn’t breathe. He ignored the suffocating feeling in his lungs as they were wrung of air like a wet rag. Still, more. More was required. There were too many to move, he knew. You can have more. No, you must have more, Kirin voiced, but you must lose control. Maris’ voice echoed distantly: Pulling more than you can handle will drive you insane or burn you to a crisp. He ignored that too and let the power fill him completely. It obeyed, and then took control, seeping and filling every nook in his body until he could contain it no longer. No more, he pleaded, agony wracking his body, but still it came… It burst from him as if splitting the seams of his soul. He fell to his knees. Words and screams sounded distant and muted. Please… he begged, in a daze, limbs weak and numb. But Kirin was louder, stronger. More!

  Too much.

  He opened his eyes.

  Through the gauzy haze of white, he saw black creatures reaching through the torrent of wind. Something clawed at his arm, screeching, and he cried out in pain. Then, everything vanished, winking out of existence.

  Still, the power grew.

  The threads bolstered themselves like white steel cords, growing and going far beyond his limits. He saw fire in his mind. It burned at the nexus, and he felt his mind ripping in two. Dread filled him. The power, his very core, was being eaten alive. In a rush, he let it all go. The wind died, as if he were being burnt alive and leapt into a body of water. Distantly, he felt something soft between his fingers. His eyes opened and closed, slowly.

  He saw green blades, and then it was all gone…

  * * *

  Gray’s world formed slowly. Nearby, a man lay on a marble floor. His white robes were ripped to shreds, pulled to his waist to expose a horrid sight. The man’s face was hidden in shadows, but what he could see was an abomination.

  His tan skin laid flayed open, and where it wasn’t, it was crisp and blackened from searing fire… Diseased vines crawled over his body, thorns puncturing and oozing blood, pressing deeper with each passing second…

  The man cried out in agony—one long endless cry.

  Gray wanted to run, to flee this awful nightmare. But he couldn’t. Instead he pressed closer, hoping to save the man, and just as he almost resolved the face…

  His eyes snapped open, breathing hard—seeing a green canopy overhead.

  Alive, he thought.

  But his thoughts were filled with only the dream. Who in the seven hells was that man? And why did Gray feel such a strange and powerful urge to know? As if he was being guided, pressed to remember. But it was just a dream, Gray told himself. Wasn’t it?

  He pushed the dream aside, and noticed for the first time that he lay on a bed of grass and curling vines, vines just like the ones that had wrapped around Faye’s limbs, trapping her after Darius had…

  “Darius…” he whispered, remembering the rogue and his power.

  “Yes?” Darius shot up. Gray hadn’t seen him lounging against a gnarled tree. He seemed to blend into the forest as if one with it.

  “Where am I? What happened?” he questioned, feeling groggy. His head throbbed as if bludgeoned by a cudgel. Repeatedly. He looked around, taking in his surroundings.

  They sat in a flat, grassy dell, hemmed by towering trees. A faint trickle of water announced a stream, and he saw it flowed down a nearby slope feeding into a small, translucent pond where birds and more butterflies flitted. Even from here, he saw brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface. Beside the pond sat a huge batch of dark green mushrooms, at which several deer-like creatures nibbled.

  “Faye says we’re in another smaller Node, a forest just a week from Farbs,” Darius explained. “We’ve jumped ahead considerably. You nearly got us to our destination with that little stunt of yours.”

  “My little stunt…” Gray repeated, and sudden fear gripped his body. The nexus… He reached into his mind. The swirling ball of air was there, sitting extraordinarily quiet. For a moment, something felt different about it, but it passed. It was still there, and that was all that mattered. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, slumping back down upon his strange bed of vines. When had he grown so attached to his power? He held onto it, not wanting to let it go. “It nearly cost us everything,” he said, trying to sit up, and groaned. He hurt everywhere. Is this the repercussion for drawing upon my power like that? It must be, for he knew he’d threaded too much. He was only glad it wasn’t worse. At his side, he saw Morrowil. He grabbed the blade, holding it to his chest, drawing comfort from its presence.

  “Ah, but it worked! My ma’ used to say that sometimes a foolish man is great, and a great man is a fool, but one can never tell which is which if both have success.”

  “What’s that mean exactly? I’m too tired for sayings.”

  Darius scratched his head of unruly brown hair. He’d combed it once, Gray thought he remembered, at Karil’s camp, but it was growing more and more unkempt in the past few weeks. “Not sure, but you’re a foolishly great man in my book.”

  Gray smiled. “Thanks, Darius.” He eyed his arm and saw a thin bandage. “What’s this?”

  “Faye’s doing,” Darius remarked. “When you got us here, one of those things got through. Before I could turn around, she’d killed it and it disappeared in a bout of flame. After that, she insisted on your rest and set us up in this glade.” He shook his head, “Dice, I hate to admit it, but somehow she’s gone from villain to friend.” Though the rogue didn’t sound entirely convinced himself.

  “She promised peace, for now,” Gray said, feeling suddenly weary. So much power. It was Kirin’s voice, not his. It sounded dangerously similar to Vera, and he silenced Kirin, shutting him out of his thoughts forcefully.

  “What do you remember?” Darius asked.

  “The last thing I saw was wind and… a black limb, and then it was all gone.”

  “Yes, that wicked thing…” The rogue shivered and looked to a nearby tree, pointing to a cloth-wrapped bundle.

  Gray whispered, “Is… that it?”

  “It is. Faye wanted to keep it. Said no one had ever separated a limb from its body. Usually the things just burn like tinder to a flame if killed, or so she says,” Darius admitted.

  Suddenly, he remembered those vines that had held Faye. That power. “Darius… Back in the other Node, when Faye tried to kill you and you grabbed her, how did you do that?”

  “I’m not sure…” Darius answered, squirming in his black vest. “For a flickering moment, I just saw this thing floating in my mind, and I told it what to do.”

  “…What sort of image do you see?” he asked cautiously.

  He saw a haunted look in the rogue’s eyes. “I see a leaf.”

  Gray felt his heart stop for a moment. Life, curiosity, and excitement pounded in his veins. “A leaf?”

  Darius shivered, looking away. “Perhaps I should leave you to get some rest.” he said and rose. “You’ve been out for a bit, but I’m sure you’re tired and you don’t need me jabbering in your ear about leaves and vines and—”

  “—Darius,” he said, interrupting the rogue.

  Darius paused. He looked at Gray curiously. Gray opened his mouth, and then hesitated. Using the ki, he delved into Darius. He felt guilty, like he was invading the rogue’s personal space, but he needed to know. What he felt surprised him, taking his breath. He felt strength and confidence, but beneath that—terror. It wasn’t just fear, but unadulterated dread and doubt, like a pool of boiling water beneath a thin layer of ice just waiting to crack. How was the rogue not shaking visibly? That, at the very least, took strength of will. Pulling away, he returned to his own body. Why is he so afraid? Gray wondered, and then he realized… Da
rius was terrified of what was inside of him. Wasn’t that how I was? The unknown. He’s scared of what he is and might be. How can I possibly tell him? No, maybe now wasn’t the time…

  “I…”

  “What is it, Gray?” Darius asked with a pale face, but his voice still remarkably strong.

  He shook his head, “Nothing. Don’t go is all. I don’t need any more rest, and well… I could use your company.”

  The rogue smiled. He didn’t need to use the ki to sense some of the fear and tension flee from Darius as he sighed, settling back down. And Gray understood. Already feeling confused and strange because of his new power, he didn’t want to be alone as well. Gray noticed that Darius was whittling something. “A new pipe?”

  “My last one was stolen,” he declared.

  Gray looked around. “Where’s Ayva?”

  “Your girl went looking for more wood, at my request,” a calm, collected voice said.

  Gray groaned, sitting up to see Faye approach. She no longer wore her dust cloak, he noticed. It was warm here—though a steady breeze rolled off of the nearby pond, cooling him.

  Red hair like spun fire shook around her face as the woman laughed. It was feminine, but strong. “Funny girl, that one. She wouldn’t leave your side—not until I ordered her to, and she made me promise to burn this cursed arm, as well. Guess they both are like that,” she said, eyeing Darius. “What did you do to earn such loyalty?”

  “Dice,” the rogue said. “We’re called friends. Don’t you have any?”

  “Not really, no,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Darius cleared his throat. “Well then…”

  Gray drew their attention with a word. “Faye. About those questions.”

  “Already, eh? You’re a man of business, I see.” She shrugged. “It’s no matter to me. I hold my word, and I promised peace, at least until I answered your burning questions. After that, however, I promise nothing. If I so desire, I can kill you and steal your friend to claim his Untamed bounty. Deal?”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Darius snorted. “So much for friends.”

  “You have too little faith in me, Darius,” said Gray.

  The rogue guffawed, gesturing with his half-finished pipe. “Do I now? It doesn’t take a blademaster to see you’re exhausted, having spent every bit of your power and more. Besides, I already saw what happened to you when you had energy and fought her. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “I’d have to agree with your friend’s assessment. It’s not too late to back out,” she said. “I’ll keep my word, either way.”

  “It’s more a matter of my faith in you, Faye.”

  “Equally foolish,” she replied.

  “I’ve seen your heart,” he answered. “It’s not all bad.”

  “But it’s not all good. How can you trust a speck of light amidst the darkness?”

  He laughed, but it hurt his ribs. Did I break something? Gray wondered. No, but every bone and muscle hurt. Breathing alone was agony. “Don’t you see? The very fact that you’re arguing with me proves that you have at least some good in you.”

  “Or I’m just argumentative and don’t like to be wrong. Besides, ‘some good’ means ‘a lot bad’,” she said, flipping her dagger in the air casually and catching it by the blade repeatedly. Terus? A memory whispered, showing a brief glimpse of clay streets and a dark game. He shook it off as Faye shrugged at last. “I’m done talking you out of it. It’s your choice either way. I care not. Questions are an easy price to pay for my life.”

  “Then the bargain is struck,” he said.

  “What bargain?”

  Gray twisted and saw Ayva. He winced, knowing she would give him an earful or more if she knew what had just happened. Already, he saw the fire and anger that passed between the two women though they stood thirty paces apart.

  “Oh, nothing. Gray just bargained our lives for a few measly questions,” Darius said, and then leaned back upon his elbows, a grin spreading.

  Gray growled at Darius. Great. Throw logs onto the fire then back away.

  Ayva whispered, “You… what?”

  “You two are making too big a deal out of it, honestly. The deal was already set. We have a truce.”

  “For now,” Faye said with emphasis, and then flipped her dagger and stuck it into a nearby Silveroot.

  Ayva smoothed her riding skirts, tucking her dagger away in her leather belt, and then sat on a nearby log. “You’re a fool, Gray. But at least you’re a living fool. I don’t know how you moved us all out of that predicament, but it was truly something…”

  Gray was listening, but only barely. He watched as Faye dug her dagger deeper until it found the tree’s vein. Suddenly sap poured out, flowing over her dagger, and then dripping into her cupped hands. When it was full, she neared him, and spoke in a gruff tone, “Sit up and drink this.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “That… can’t be good for me.”

  She raised a brow. “Oh, do you know more about Farhaven than I do? How long have you lived here exactly?” She smiled thinly when his words failed him. “That’s what I thought. I’m guessing you somehow crossed the Gates and, up until now, have only managed to survive by sheer dumb luck and the faintest bit of knowledge.”

  “Don’t drink it,” Ayva said. “If that’s a silveroot tree, then that’s silver.”

  Faye sighed. “It’s not silver. Well, not exactly. It’s a type of silver essence and—look, just drink it or don’t.”

  He held Faye’s gaze, searching the truth in her eyes. There was no hint of deception. He debated asking her again and threading the spell of truth he’d done on the Gates—though the memory of how he’d done it was hazy—but everything told him she was telling the truth. At last, he nodded. She casually put her fingers to his lips, and he drank. She was cautious not to let a drop spill, and he gulped the cool liquid down. Over her shoulder, he saw Ayva flash him a curious glance, and he nearly let the sap spill. It was surprisingly sweet with a tart note, if a tad viscous. “That’s not half bad,” he said at last. As he said the words, he felt a strange vitality flow over him. His ribs that only a second before stung in agony with every small breath now only smarted. He took a huge lungful of air and felt almost no pain. “That’s… that’s a miracle.”

  “No, it’s magic,” Faye said.

  “It’s trickery is what it is—that’s a Silver—”

  “Look, girl. I can put up with that fool walking into my trap and ruining my carefully laid plans, and even your friend presuming to understand my true intentions when he doesn’t, but I will not stand idly by as you attempt to lecture me on the natures of this world when you know nothing.” She ripped her dagger from the tree and rammed it back into its sheath.

  Ayva’s lips drew into a tight line. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” Faye repeated flatly.

  “Try me,” Ayva said, standing straight, lifting her chin and looking down her freckled nose.

  Faye snorted. “Fine. Have you all been getting a good night’s rest?”

  “Not really,” Gray admitted.

  “More or less,” Ayva said evasively.

  “Not a wink. Like my bed is full of burs,” Darius chimed.

  Ayva shot him a venomous look.

  “And do you know why?” she asked.

  “Because we are strained and stressed, traveling from sunup to sundown, that’s why,” Ayva answered. “It’s a wonder we sleep at all.”

  “You’re a foolish girl indeed. And wrong. It’s because Farhaven is full of magic. We live longer and have fewer diseases. In the same way, we require less sleep. Your bodies have no idea how to adjust to it. You will acclimate hopefully with time. However, initially, most people sleep less and less, their bodies getting restless because they are overly sensitive. Others sleep more. So much so that they become addicted to the sleep and its satisfying effects. You can die by sleep in Farhaven.”

  The notion was mind-boggling. He realized they ha
d experienced the exact pattern that she had just described, and part of him wanted to stay awake forever.

  “And that is one of the simplest symptoms in this land. If you thought you knew Farhaven, please realize that you don’t. They are just the foolish and likely misguided fancies of a little girl who reads too much and knows too little. Now move aside and let your friend ask his questions so he can be done with me, and I can be done with you,” Faye said sternly, pressing past Ayva, knocking her shoulder roughly. Ayva looked as if she’d been slapped, and hard. He couldn’t see her face, but her entire body practically quivered.

  Gray swallowed, and he felt Darius’ tension beside him.

  Ayva hesitated, but turned around. Her face was surprisingly smooth. She spoke, addressing him as if the woman at his side did not exist. “Gray, this woman seeks something… I promise you it is not to leave. She will be a thorn in our sides as long as she stays. So please ask your questions quickly so we can be rid of her.”

  With that, she turned and walked away.

  “Ayva!” he called, but she didn’t slow. He thought he saw her body shaking as she disappeared behind a tree.

  Cursing, Darius rose and followed her.

  “Did you really have to do that?” Gray asked.

  Faye rolled her eyes heavily. “Was I wrong?”

  “No, but you didn’t have to beat her down for her lack of knowledge.”

  “That girl needed a dose of reality. You all do. I might have been a tad rough around the edges, but the truth is the truth. If she kept sauntering on with her eyes closed, she was destined to run straight off a cliff.”

  He saw wisdom in almost everything Faye said, yet it was veiled in a kind of half-truth that ignored the feelings involved in the situation. “Ayva was right. You’re obviously shrewd, at least about this world, and so far, you’ve been true to your word, but you have no idea what empathy is.”

  “And I have no need for it.”

  “I believe that will cost you one day.”

  She flicked a hand. “You presume too much and talk too much. Now ask your questions.”